Looking back now I’ve always suffered from OCD. It comes from fear of harm coming to those I care about; eg. I worry about leaving taps, electrical items on etc for fear harm will come to a loved one. And, on a deeper level, OCD tells me that if I done do certain things bad things will happen to people I love. People have often commented on how caring I am and how lovely it is I have such a deep love for my family and friends and I guess that it is..but it’s also a massive pain in the arse! The monster of OCD grabs hold of it and uses it to control me, and at its strongest it has rendered me utterly helpless and desperate to escape the world. It is exhausting and terrifying and all consuming.

This came to the forefront when I found out I was pregnant in January 2017. I’d always loved babies and knew I’d want to be a mum one day. It’s not something you give much thought to, you just assume pregnancy will be blissfully beautiful (think swaying though sunny meadows with radiance of maternal love oozing from every pore) especially when it is something you have always wanted. I reduced my medication on the advice of a GP… I didn’t realise but OCD was already taking hold. I became obsessed with one thing, and when that was resolved the OCD replaced it with another. It started with the fear of miscarriage, then moved onto fear of my own health, the safety of scans etc. So far I’d been told by a midwife that I needed to up my dose of sertraline but nobody had taken the time to truly understand my fears. I was petrified sertraline would harm my baby – OCD at it’s cruellest. It told me that I had to choose I could survive, my family could survive or my baby – but not all three. I battled with this very real ultimatum throughout my pregnancy (and if I’m completely honest, even now) OCD tells me I can’t be happy. If I am happy someone I love will come to harm. 

By this point I’d been referred to a consultant, was having daily visits from the crisis team and my GP was seeing me weekly. I wasn’t allowed to be left alone. After the earlier fear of miscarriage the main fear set in. I became very aware of the overwhelming responsibility I had for this little human growing inside me. It was like my OCD from years ago but multiplied by an infinite amount. I felt I was the only person responsible for making sure this helpless little treasure would grow into a healthy baby and that if anything went wrong I’d be forever to blame. 

Toxoplasmosis and listeria became the next tangible thing OCD could use to control me. I stopped eating, couldn’t sit anywhere in my house comfortably (I have cats) I wouldn’t wear anything unless it had been washed at 60 degrees C. I had to buy new clothes frequently. I could only bring myself to eat from a plate if it had been scalded first. I couldn’t sleep in my own bed without buying a new sleeping bag every few days. I didn’t trust tap water so I could only have hot drinks. My hands bled and blistered from burning water and over use of soap. I just wanted someone to end my life because I couldn’t see anyway out of this life of utter terror. I remember begging for a termination on a number of occasions (something I still struggle to admit, think about or write about) I never ever want Elyah to think I didn’t want him. It is because I love him so much OCD wrestled it’s way in. I felt I had no choice and I was too frightened to carry on. Each night I went to bed dreading the morning when the horror would start all over again.

Amongst this there were and I have to remember, moments of sensational joy. Each time I heard his heartbeat, each time I saw that amazingly beautiful nugget bouncing around on an ultrasound and each squirmy, wriggly movement he made. I treasure these memories because OCD robbed me of so many others. I couldn’t take photos of my bump or buy anything for him (nothing! Not even a baby grow!) I couldn’t tell even my closest friends I was pregnant until it was obvious! One of my closest friends was pregnant at the same time as me but I couldn’t share my news as the OCD told me only one of us could have a happy ending. OCD is a demon. It robbed me of my pregnancy. It mentally, physically and financially cripples and puts enormous strains on relationships. I was, and am, so incredibly lucky to have my family around me. I know I wouldn’t be here (and nor would Elijah) without their help, patience and unconditional love. 

My experiences of OCD make me who I am, I cant change that I have it, but through therapy and medication I can control it rather than it control me. By the end of my pregnancy I was taking the maximum dose of sertraline and a small dose of antipsychotics too. By this point I understood that I needed to be well and not taking the medication  just simply wasn’t an option. 

I was referred to a psychologist who was lovely and we worked through some pretty deep and dark things together. But I was always strong enough to know the OCD was not who I was, it was manipulating me to behave a certain way. For lots of sufferers , they do not have that insight, and this story is for them. You are not alone, you are allowed to be happy, OCD is not your ruler.

I will never be OCD free. I have times when I struggle to overcome it. It doesn’t go away and these days it has another loved one to use against me in its horrible game – but I wouldn’t change that for the world because what is life without loved ones?

Elijah Jack was born at 35 weeks by C Section. He was breech and I had preeclampsia…and I’d take that a million times over perinatal OCD. 

OCD is a demon, it prays on caring personalities and robs people of happiness. It is not a perfectionism or “liking things in order”. You cannot be “a little bit OCD” – OCD is a monster and no one deserves to be held in a it’s grasp.